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I was a very small child when the Dark Shadows serial was first airing on ABC at 4:00pm Monday through Friday. Some of my most vivid early memories are associated with it. Dark Shadows was originally conceived as a gothic romance. Premiering on June 27, 1966, it centered on Victoria Winters, a young woman who takes the job of governess to the young scion of the wealthy Collins family, who reside in the spooky Collinwood mansion in spooky Collinsport, Maine. Read more …
Jonathan Bowden in the Wild West
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I first saw Jonathan Bowden speak in 2009. It was the most rousing speech I had ever heard. I was sitting at table with a number of like-minded friends, and by the end of the speech we were all ready to follow Jonathan over the barricades. Read more …
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Recently I was doing some research for a projected essay on the “pickup artist” phenomenon, when I came across a rather interesting piece in Psychology Today titled “How to Spot a Narcissist.” Read more …
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1. Yo biyotch, this show is the bomb!
Breaking Bad is the greatest television series ever made.
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Jack Donovan
The Way of Men
Portland, Or.: Dissonant Hum, 2012
1. The Way of Men is the Way of the Gang
How do you define masculinity? If you listen to today’s feminist-approved “authorities” on the subject you will be told either that masculinity means nothing at all — that it is “constructed” differently from place to place or time to time — or you will be told that masculinity is now being “redefined.” Read more …
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1. “Brother, can you spare a Duce?”
Apparently, that was the question on the lips of many Americans during the early years of the Great Depression. Read more …
Graphic by Harold Arthur McNeill
1,633 words
“Hi guys!” said the waitress.
She was speaking to me and my mother. The restaurant was the Olive Garden, and it was in the mid-1990s. I felt affronted on two levels. First, it was far too informal a way to refer to patrons; unforgivably familiar, really. Second, I was not there with one of my “guy” friends at all. I was there with my grey-haired, sixty-something year-old mother. Read more …
11,660 words
1. I am Jack’s Most Devoted Space Monkey
I have hesitated to write an essay on Fight Club
4,648 words
Whatever happened to the Age of Anxiety? In the post-war years, intellectuals left and right were constantly telling us — left and right — that we were living in an age of breakdown and decay. Read more …
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The second rune in the Elder Futhark is “uruz,” and it refers to the “aurochs,” a familiar fixture in the lives of our ancestors. The aurochs was a very large beast, about the size of rhino, and was the ancestor of today’s cattle. Read more …
Arno Breker sculptures in 1945
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I suppose I am a 45 year old child. When you’re small, you think that all adults are good and have your best interests at heart. This innocence is one of the things that make children lovable. Read more …
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In Introduction to Magic, Julius Evola recommends a spiritual exercise to be carried out just before going to sleep at night. It involves imagining that you are climbing up a mountain. As you progress further and further upwards, you are supposed to imagine the sun gradually rising. Read more …
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Leni Riefenstahl would be 109 today, had she lived. And if she had lived to such an advanced age, I would hardly have been surprised. For a while it seemed that she was indestructible. She released her final film (Impressionen unter Wasser) the year before her death, when she was 100. It consisted entirely of color footage she had shot while deep-sea diving over the course of many years. Read more …
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Predictably, the information about Anders Behring Breivik conveyed to us by the mainstream media has been a farrago of confusions and red herrings. He has been described as a “Christian fundamentalist” by some reporters. I would love for them to explain to me how somebody can be both a Christian fundamentalist and Freemason, given the antipathy of the former to the latter. But ignorance is epidemic these days, on both sides of the Atlantic, Read more …
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I suppose I’m just about the last person to see this film, which won Oscars in all major categories (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Actor, Best Original Screenplay). This is odd considering my fascination with the British Monarchy (see my essay “In Defense of Royalty”). However, film audiences today annoy me so much I usually wait for things to come out on DVD. So it was with great anticipation that I awaited the arrival of The King’s Speech
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I suppose you’re reading this website because you care about the fate of Western culture and the race that produced it. Perhaps you are, in your own way, trying to do something to preserve your heritage and your people. Like me, you realize the terrible menace posed to the West by non-white immigration, and by all the isms that twine around each other in the noisome innards of Political Correctness: multiculturalism, egalitarianism, feminism, relativism, etc. Read more …
Dean Martin as Matt Helm
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One of my guiltier pleasures is the “Matt Helm” films of the 1960s. There were four of these, all produced by Irving Allen and starring Dean Martin as secret agent Matt Helm. The first (The Silencers) appeared in 1966. The story behind these films is an interesting one. In the 1950s Irving Allen was partnered with Albert R. (“Cubby”) Broccoli. Things came to an end, however, when Broccoli announced that he was interested in purchasing the film rights to the James Bond novels by Ian Fleming. Read more …
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English original here
Jef Costello skriver om manlighet, avmaskulinisering och ideal. Texten publicerades ursprungligen på Counter Currents och är översatt av Ulf Larsen. Read more …
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In recent months, when I would think ruefully of the peculiar life I lead, I took some solace in the thought that soon my invitation to Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding would arrive.
Alas it did not, and I am writing these words hours after the nuptials ended – apparently without a hitch (if we don’t count the fashion disaster that was Princess Beatrice and Princess Eugenie of York). Read more …
Hieronymus Bosch, "The Haywain," after. 1510
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A few days ago I had dinner with a co-worker. She knows nothing of my secret identity (i.e., Jef Costello) and I have never clued her in to the full extent of my political incorrectness. Nevertheless, as I do with so many others, I relish little opportunities to slip something into the conversation to make her think. Usually it consists in unfurling a bit of my colossal pessimism – my sense that everything is going to complete and utter hell. On this particular occasion she listened to me for awhile and then said, wearing a look of grave concern, “Are you happy?”
